


I Can't Escape

by Lumiel_lightbringer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Anxious Sam Winchester, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Comfort/Angst, Concerned Dean Winchester, Depressed Sam Winchester, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Sam Winchester, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, I probably forgot some tags, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Physical Abuse, Protective Dean Winchester, Psychological Torture, Sam Winchester Has Panic Attacks, Scared Dean Winchester, Scared Sam Winchester, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Self-Harming Sam Winchester, Self-Hatred, Torture, Worried Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 19:20:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18857458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumiel_lightbringer/pseuds/Lumiel_lightbringer
Summary: "No matter how far I run, how much better I get, how much happier I am, I will never escape The Cage...My soul wasn't in The Cage, Dean, The Cage was in my soul. And it will never leave. I can't escape... I can never escape."Or,Sam runs away after a hunt leads to the younger Winchester to flashbacks to his time in The Cage. He returns in shambles, but Dean doesn't hesitate to try and piece his little brother back together.





	1. I Remember Everything

~

Sam

My throat tightens at the sight, and a heavy weight lands on my chest, both restricting my breathing into a painful wheeze.

"Sam?"

My brother's voice is muffled out by the screams in my head; my screams and blood-curdling cries swirl with the sound of laughter.

"Sam?"

His voice is more frantic, but the laughter becomes louder, and my vision swims with images of blood and guts pouring onto the ground, out of my body. I see my heart fall out of the gaping hole in my chest. I hear a loud laugh. It booms and echoes in my ears as my heart pounds on the floor, quivering and expelling blood as though nothing was wrong, and it was still attached to the open valves in my chest.

"Sammy?"

The jagged cut in my chest begins expand, four cracks breaking open the skin on each side; one reaching up to my neck; one on the left and right; one pulling down toward my abdomen. The gashes on either side of the gap branch out on my arm, digging deeper into my skin and muscle. The cuts begin to slice under and across my skin, before finally tugging away. The thick layers of skin fall to the ground beside my heart, exposing my veins, arteries, tendons, muscles and bones.

The laughter grows louder.

"Sammy, you with me?"

Dean lightly hits me cheek a few times, but I barely register the worried green orbs examining my features.

The rising line of blood deepens as it reaches my neck, before splitting off into two separate gashes on either sides of my esophagus. The cuts press deeper, digging and pulling out the entire organ and every other muscle surrounding it from my body. The parts hit the floor with a disgusting splat into the growing puddle of blood.

The laughter grows louder.

"Sam, come on, dude,"

The lowest incision starts carving out my entire abdomen, slicing off the skin covering and protecting the organs. Each vital- and even the less needed- organs are pulled out of their sockets, ripping from the veins and muscle and tissue, and thrown onto the ground, almost angrily. My kidneys and liver, lying like empty sacks in front of my feet. Unmoving yet unnervingly alive. My stomach, stirring just enough to scar me for the next thousand lives. Diaphragm, expanding as if my lungs were still attached to it - let alone my own body. And the spleen, gallbladder, and pancreas, all disgustingly moist on the floor, surrounding by the excrement of the rest of the organs. Finally, if that word could even be used in this context, both small and large intestines are thrown out. Ripped out of my body like old duct tape.

Every part of me used to live, every necessary gear to operate or even fuel me, all strewn about like confetti. Pulsating and quivering even after being detached from my body and veins.

The laughter grows louder.

"Sammy, please, snap outta it!"

Dean slaps me hard across the face and I become hyper-aware of the situation, my body shaking and my mouth agape, saliva dripping down my chin and onto my shirt and the ground.

"Snap out of it!"

My arms are wrapped around my stomach holding tightly in a desperate attempt to remain intact. I blink quickly to focus on where we are, and I catch sight of the corpse again; the man's gut open wide with the organs pooling out. A familiar sight.

"Sammy? You with me?" Dean asks, staring into my eyes with concern and slight fear.

"I- uh, yeah, yeah. I just... Sorry," I stammer out, my hands wandering mindlessly to my neck, feeling the intact skin and the vibration when I speak.

"You good?" He asks, scanning my face worriedly.

"Yeah, yeah. Just a... It was nothing. I'm fine." I give him a tight smile, but Dean responds with a disbelieving double-take followed by a dry laugh.

"You were _drooling_ , Sam!" He exclaims in exasperation. And last I checked, a guy with his guts spilling out isn't an attractive waitress."

"I just freaked out a bit, I'm sorry. I wasn't exactly _warned_ about what this case was."

"Alright, alright, fine. But if that happens again I'm working this case alone. I'll warn your highness about the details next time."

If the laughter wasn't still floating behind in my head, I would have rolled my eyes at the teasing, but it was; loud and clear, so I simply give him a slight nod.

Dean sighs before adding, "I'm going to check out the basement. You get the upstairs. No more dead bodies that I know of."

I nod again and Dean heads to the cellar door, but stops to shoot me a worried look, "We're not done talking about- whatever _this_ was."


	2. Don't Tell Dean

~

Sam

My knuckles fade to white as I hold a tight, albeit shaky grip on the sides of the sink. Droplets of water splash into the overflowing sink from my matted hair. 

My brain swarms with voices; shouts and screams; cries and sobs; but louder than the rest, is laughter. The same two taunting voices, laughing constantly in my head. Whether it is a deafening sound, like now, or the constant faint whisper in the back of my mind, the laughter is there.

Tears I didn't know where there fall off my cheeks, others rolling aimlessly down to my chin, where they always end up with the other drop, no matter how hard they try to veer off the inevitable track.

I hear a voice behind me- maybe Dean's- but it sounds so far away that I don't react. I can't react. Then the voices will get what they what- that is, if it  _is_ just my mind playing evil games on me.

I hear it speak again, and- no not Dean's voice. He's out getting dinner anyway, how could he be here?

Then, I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I spin around a little too frantically. My vision doubles and I hold a hand to my forehead in desperate attempts to steady myself before I slip.

"Sam." 

The laughter dims down back into the faint hum behind my brain, still there, but not enough to impair my hearing.

"Cass- what, uh, what are you doing h-here?" I ask quickly, turning to the pouring faucet and quickly turning the valve shut.

"Visiting you. I have been here a while."

"You have? Visible or were you spying?"

"I would not consider it spying, but yes, I guess I have been invisible for most of your worrisome condition. I made myself present when the sink started to pour out. I am concerned."

"Don't be." I mutter, pulling up the drain to allow the water to flow out of the porcelain container. "I'm fi-ine." My voice breaks as I speak, causing Castiel to tilt his head and give me his  _I-Want-To-Help-But-Don't-Know-What-This-Is-Or-How-To-Help_ look.

"You tried to flood this bathroom."

"No, I just-" I let out a sigh before unlocking the door and opening it. "I'm not fine, Cass, I think you know that, but I'm certainly not telling  _you_ of all people."

His eyebrows knit together and he follows me out to the main room of the motel.

"What does that mean?" He asks, stopping beside the motel bed I lay down on.

"It means that I'm not admitting my mental issues to the captain of the Dean fan-club."

He stares at me for a few seconds before repeating, "What does that mean?"

"It means that you tell Dean everything possibly ever, and I do  _not_ want Dean to know I'm having a panic attack!" I shout, anger beginning to replace the dull, numbing feeling in my gut.

The angel opens his mouth to speak, but hesitates. When he does speak, his tone remains calm and careful, almost as if he was beginning to understand human emotions (at last).

"Sam, I am not going to tell Dean anything you do not want me to.

I stare up at him with wide, teary eyes, honestly in disbelief that he didn't just pop out of the room the instant I yelled. "Really?" My voice quivers with hope, my body beginning to shake harder.

When he nods, I jump off the bed and engulf him in a tight hug. The tears fall rapidly, hot droplets staining my cheeks and wetting Castiel's clothing.

His body tenses up in confusion and he awkwardly holds his arms at his side, obviously unsure of what to do.

"What... What should I do?" He mumbles quietly.

"Arms around torso." I say before pushing my head down against his shoulder, turning to bury my face into the crook of his neck.

Cass slowly raises his arms up and lays them around my back. I tighten my grip, prompting him to do the same. I let out a harsh sob, the voices growing progressively louder by the second.

My vision starts to blur, but as I close my eyes I find myself chained up, blood pouring out of my mouth as I am forcibly fed my own skin and muscles. I open my eyes quickly and tense up as a wave of panic washes over me in the form of hot flashes.

"Lay down?" I ask quietly, pulling away enough to see Cass' face.

"Um, I... Yes?"

The response is enough for me to let go and curl up on the bed, Castiel nervously copying my movements. I guide him by wrapping my my right arm around his body again, then placing my head on his chest and snuggling closer to him. I hold my left hand to my neck, pinching the skin in an attempt to ground myself.

The angel rigidly pulls his arms around me curled up body and steadies me there.

"Is this correct?"

I hum and nod, my fists tightening to grasp the fabric of his outfit. I feel the heat radiating off him and hear his heartbeat- both of which remind me that Castiel, although an angel, has a living vessel. 

I try to focus on the fact that a living body is beside me, and it is of a friend- well, as much as his vessel can be his body. I focus on his rhythmic breathing and try to copy it, although my breath constantly hitches whenever I blink and see horrid images; meat hooks, blood, pulsating organs, detached body parts squirming on the ground.

"Cass," I speak suddenly, my grip on his clothing turning my knuckles white.

"Yes?"

"I-I need you to talk."

"About what?"

"Anything. Just-just talk a-about anything, please."

The silence that follows settles for only a second before I hear his voice. I recognize that he's speaking Enochian, but I don't know what he's actually saying. But his voice is enough, it helps block out the noises my mind refuses to forget.

I try to focus on each syllable, each word he says, and how his voice can sound so calming even though I have no clue what he's saying. 

My breathing soon finds its way to match Castiel's. The shaking dulls down to a mild quiver.

My heart takes longer to return to stability. But as I listen to Cass' ramblings, my heart soon beats in rhythm with his.

My eyes close and, for the first time in a long while, all I see is the back of my eyelids. No tormenting images plague my mind as I concentrate on Castiel's presence.

And finally, as the voices return to their hiding spot, held at bay for the time being, I find myself tired. But not the tired I usually am, a tired that is fixed with a good night's rest.

And even though I still hear the voices, albeit faintly, and my body still has moments when it jolts suddenly, or a quiver can be seen under my thrumming skin, I feel relaxed.

For now, that's enough. That's enough for me to feel close to happiness.

My mind wanders off and I soon fall into a deep, peaceful slumber, something I have not been blessed with in a long time.


End file.
